Page 39 of Redemption

“Like you were brave?” Braxton reached out to touch the scars on her cheek.

There was a look of awe on his face that made Patience’s heart skip a beat. A strong hand gripped her shoulder in a silent message of love and reassurance. It wasn’t the first time Braxton had expressed interest in her scars. He’d often asked her if she’d been on a pirate ship, which had in some odd way always struck her as funny. It had also reinforced Julian’s and other family members’ comments that her scars were not as bad as she had once believed them to be.

“Precisely, laddie,” Julian’s voice was gruff with emotion. “Your Aunt Patience is the bravest woman I’ve ever known.”

A small chorus of agreement whispered through the room as Constance and Aunt Matilda softly echoed Julian’s sentiments. Her gaze flitted upward to her husband’s strong features. The emotion darkening his face made her heart ache. It was clear he was remembering not only the fire, but the pain they’d both endured in the months that followed.

“Does this mean you’ll go to heaven?”

“Sweet heavens, laddie,” Aunt Matilda exclaimed in horror. “All this talk of death. Your Aunt Patience isn’t going anywhere.”

“Alma says we’ll all be dead someday, but she says we don’t have to be scared. She says we’ll just be ghosts then,” Braxton said with all the cockiness of a six-year-old. The words made Patience look at her sister and Aunt Matilda. The maternal figure of the Rockwood family shook her head and shrugged slightly.

“The child has no’ mentioned having the ability, but I would no’ be surprised if she does,” the burr in her aunt’s voice seemed to soften the blow of comprehension reeling through her.

Patience suddenly understood Constance better than she ever had. Her sister’s acceptance of Jamie’s gift could not have been easy, particularly when her nephew’s abilities were extraordinarily powerful. Although her sister seemed to have come to terms with her son’s ability as well as her own, Patience knew it still troubled her sister.

The raucous chatter of children floated into the salon, barely giving Patience a moment to contemplate the idea that Alma might have inherited the Rockwood gift of sight. A moment later, the girl walked through the salon doorway. Greer’s hand was locked in hers, while Imogene followed her into the salon with Aiden balanced on her hip.

Involved in an animated discussion, Jamie and Theo walked into the room followed by the rest of the Rockwood offspring being herded forward by Louisa and Helen. What had been a fairly quiet room became rowdy with laughter. Most evening meals were like this when the Rockwood clan gathered at Melton House or Callendar, their aunt’s Scottish estate.

In most households, it was unusual for children to eat dinner with the adults. But Patience and her siblings dispensed with society’s customary practice when the fire had taken so much from them. They’d witnessed first-hand how quickly the future of the Rockwood clan could have been wrenched from them. The sound of deep voices in the foyer announced the arrival of the Rockwood clan’s patriarch, Sebastian, and Lucien, the Earl of Lyndham, Constance’s husband.

If not for Caleb and Devin, things would have been quite different tonight. In the back of her head, Patience heard Julian’s voice reminding her that she’d been a part of saving the children that horrible night. But she knew her sacrifice wasn’t of the same magnitude as her brother’s or Devin’s.

With Greer toddling slightly behind her, Alma stopped in front of Patience and leaned forward to kiss her scarred cheek. It had become a ritual with the girl. Even when Patience’s scarred features were turned away from Alma, the child always made an effort to kiss the burnt flesh. Despite her age of seven years, the girl had always been a quiet child, but she seemed to have become even more solemn since the anniversary of the fire. Patience smiled at her as she caressed her niece’s cheek.

“You look lovely tonight, Alma. We should have Nanny always pull your hair back. It makes you look very much like your mother.” No sooner had she spoken than Braxton tugged on Patience’s sleeve.

“Tell her, Aunt Patience. Tell her we’re not orphans.”

“You are not orphans,” Patience said firmly as she directed a stern look in Alma’s direction. “The word orphan is a way of saying you have no one to look after you. But you have me and Uncle Julian to look after you.”

“But if you’re not our mother, why does Greer call you mama?”

At the boy’s question, the little girl clinging to Alma’s skirts suddenly stretched out her arms to Patience and called out mama loudly and plaintively. With one arm still wrapped around Braxton, she took Greer onto her lap. The little one snuggled into Patience in a way that made her heart expand with happiness.

“Well, Greer doesn’t remember your papa, and she never knew your mama,” Patience said in a quiet voice.

“Why don’t you have any children, Aunt Patience?”

Braxton’s demanding question made her grow rigid where she sat. A knot formed in her throat as she fought to keep tears from forming in her eyes. The adult conversation died away, and Julian was at her side in a flash of movement. Before anyone could speak, Alma stepped forward and touched Patience’s face.

“Papa says it’s so she can take care of us.” The confidence in the girl’s voice made Patience forget her pain as she stared at Alma in amazement. A sudden smile curved Alma’s mouth as she chuckled. “Papa thinks you look just like a startled mouse surprised by the cat.”

“Dear lord,” Constance whispered next to her as the familiar expression their brother had always used echoed in the air.

With a quick move, her sister took Braxton out of Patience’s arms, while Julian lifted Greer up. The child squealed her objection, but Julian easily silenced her by tickling her side until she was grinning happily. Patience’s gaze hadn’t left Alma’s face who smiled at her.

“Papa says he’s glad you and Uncle Julian are our parents now.”

The girl’s words made the tears Patience had been holding back spill down her cheeks. Consternation darkened Alma’s face and she closed the small distance between them. One hand touching her scarred cheek, the child shook her head.

“Please don’t cry Aunt Patience, please don’t cry. Papa says it wasn’t your fault. He says you couldn’t have known,” Alma frowned. “What does he mean by that?”

The tears flowed harder now as she tried to suppress the sob ripping from her throat. In seconds, she was in Julian’s arms as he lifted her up off the sofa and carried her out of the room. Behind her the sound of Alma’s distress made Patience cry even harder. Desperately clinging to Julian, she sobbed into his shoulder. A slight jerk rippled through his body into hers as he closed the door of the morning room behind them.

Keeping her wrapped tightly in his arms, Julian sank down into a blue chintz, wing-backed chair. He pressed a kiss against her brow then allowed her to cry in his arms without saying a word. After several moments her sobs eased, and the moment she finished crying a white handkerchief was provided for her use. Patience dried her tears then looked up into her husband’s eyes. His eyes, which were the color of Turkish-coffee, were dark with concern as he studied her. Strong fingers stroked her scarred cheek.